I attended my 25 year class reunion this weekend and will write a more detailed post later. I had a great time, and was very literally, the last one to leave the winery where we held the party. I was chatting with the winery owner as he was closing things down for the night, and I headed for my car.
As I got there, in the dark barnyard, I reached into my front right pocket for my keys. -- Strike 1!
Front left pocket? -- Strike 2!
Shirt pocket? -- Strike 3!
I had been to the car to put away some wine that I bought. Nope, not in the door locks. Not on the ground that I could tell. CRAP! It's after midnight, and the spares for this are 165 miles away. I catch that owner before he makes it back to the house and we look a while (5 minutes) before he heads off to get a flash light.
I keep trying to search, but there are few lights, and the grass is long and wet with dew, so everything glistens. I double check my front pockets again. Nope, same stuff as before, but no keys.
He got the flash light, and we searched by the car. We searched where I stood and talked. We searched by where the band was. We searched the path that I carried the tables us after the band was done. We searched the bar area.
So, I went through my pockets again…
Right front – Key to mom's house, camera, loose change.
Left front – Blackberry
Shirt pocket – Empty
Right rear – Wallet
Left rear – Car keys.
What kind of mindless simpleton puts their car keys in their back pocket? I guess that would be me.